


Joy by scarlett_key

by scrivenette



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gen, Introspection, Jacket!fic, Tenth Doctor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24877306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrivenette/pseuds/scrivenette
Summary: Rose takes a moment out of Easter dinner with her mum, Mickey, and the Tenth Doctor to retreat to her bedroom, the things she keeps there, and the memories she locks away.Imported from A Teaspoon and An Open Mind. Originally written in 2007.
Relationships: Ninth Doctor & Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor & Rose Tyler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Joy by scarlett_key

Rose breathed in the scent, let it fill her. And again, as happened every time, her entire body shuddered and she wept.  


#

Rose and her mum had never been religious. Nevertheless, Jackie always set great store by being with family for the holidays, so Rose had persuaded the Doctor to take her home for Easter the spring after their Sycorax Christmas. That's how Rose thought of it: their Sycorax Christmas. Their first Christmas, well, _his_ first Christmas in this new body with this new heart--these new hearts. Being with the Doctor made her think about everything differently. An hour didn't go by when she found herself having to rethink what she'd thought because the Doctor changed everything. Shed new light over everything.

She looked across the table at him, and the feeling welled up inside her: this amazing man--this amazing Time Lord--sitting at Easter dinner with her mum and Mickey, pretending to listen to Jackie with rapt attention. He glanced at Rose for just a moment and gave her a mischievous wink. She couldn't help but grin.

The Doctor burst into laughter. Apparently her mother had said something uproariously funny, but Rose had missed it, watching the Doctor. Watching him eat as though he was seated at a meal fit for a king instead of a card table covered with a table cloth in a counsel flat. Watching him gaze at Jackie and grin at Mickey like they were family, that warm, full-hearted smile that lit up those enormous, dark eyes of his. Those eyes glittered like the good dishes Jackie pulled out only for Easter and Christmas. Reflections of candlelight twinkled in those eyes, in that smile. She couldn't have loved him more if she tried.

And she couldn't imagine a time in her life when she wouldn't want to see those dark eyes in every mood they offered: thunderstorm dark with rage, alight with curiosity, dancing with glee, quiet and deep with a profound, unspoken emotion. She couldn't imagine a time in her life when they wouldn't be there. She didn't want to. They infused her with life, made her so grateful to be alive that she had no words. They stopped dead her when she tried to say it, to thank him. To tell him how she felt.

And yet...

After dinner, she excused herself. Said she'd eaten a little too much and wanted to have a lie down, just for fifteen, twenty minutes or so. The Doctor flashed her a panicked look--don't leave me alone with them--and she flashed him a "Do this for me" look. He relented. She went into her bedroom and shut the door.

She loved her room in the TARDIS. It was warm, suffused with the golden, orange light that filled the ship everywhere. But this room, this pink room where she grew up, was a kind of home she would never have in the TARDIS. It was the home of her history, where she kept those precious things she'd left behind: her gymnastics medals, the dolls she'd slept with, lace and frilly things that wouldn't survive a moment of her new life.

She went to the closet and opened the door. It was mostly empty; she'd taken nearly all her clothes to the TARDIS so she and the Doctor wouldn't have to return to the Powell Estate more than they had to. But the closet still held two or three items.

She reached in and unhooked one particular hanger from the bar. She carefully removed the hanger from the garment, hung the hanger on the closet doorknob. Then she went and sat down on her bed.

She looked at the jacket in her lap, its wide lapels, its worn edges. She ran her hand over the black leather and inside the jacket, where the lining was silky to the touch. After just a moment's hesitation, she lifted the jacket to her nose and buried her face in it. She could still smell him there, a smoky, musky fragrance, part body scent and part aged leather. She breathed deep.

It always hit her in her stomach, that scent that she never smelled anymore. The new Doctor's scent was fuller, sweeter, than this aroma full of shadows. Her entire body shook with it, and in moments she saw his blue eyes, his large, long-fingered hands, those absurd ears, that ridiculous grin. She could still see the expression on his face when he forgave her for preventing her father's death, his gentle, astonishing compassion. Tears filled her eyes, and she hugged the jacket to her chest, weeping as quietly as she could manage.

She hadn't lost the Doctor. She hadn't lost that love. This new Doctor was a new man and yet the same somehow. But there was a part of her that couldn't let her _first_ Doctor go, that missed him and grieved for him. Her long, lean Doctor who always dressed so soberly, wrapped in leather armor that he pretended was bulletproof. The Doctor who came to his love for her and his life with her with such reluctance, and so willingly gave up his life out of that love. She missed those blue eyes and the way they'd spoken to her in their time together.

She cried until it was wrung out of her, all that sorrow. The Doctor would hate her weeping this way over him. After all, he wasn't gone. He was there, he was present, he was as alive as he could be, more so if that were possible. She was speechless with her gratitude for what they shared now, what they couldn't have shared any other way.

But in this one corner of her heart, this one corner of her life, she remembered _her_ Doctor, her _first_ Doctor, and would keep him there forever.

She put the jacket down to her lap and stroked it again, wiped away the traces of tears she'd left upon it. Then she stood, went to the closet, put the jacket back on the hanger, hung it up and closed the door. She pulled a tissue out of the box on her dresser and patted away the damp on her cheeks. She looked in the mirror--thank God for waterproof make-up. She touched herself up a bit; she wasn't too puffy. She took a deep breath and headed out the door.

Back to her Doctor. Her heart filled with joy.

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=15020>


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